Cadaver
by blueglows
Summary: It was a yearly event for him. Every year he would steal one and take it home. Then he would take out his knife and his fun would begin.


Cadaver

**Rating:** T  
**Warnings:** Violent acts  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters or the original show idea. I did make up this story and I'm the one to write it, but it is non-profit.  
**Summary: **It was a yearly event for him. Every year he would steal one and take it home. Then he would take out his knife and his fun would begin.

It grew dark as clouds rolled in, taking over the sky. Lightning flashed while rain started to pour over him as he dragged the body to his hideout. The dead weight of the rather large corpse made it difficult to carry, but this one was the best of those he stolen in years. He kicked open the door and trudged in, plopping the body on the table before shaking off the water on him. He giggled and traced the top of his victim, excited for the fun he would have.

Slipping into the kitchen, he opened a drawer and pulled out a knife. He slowly ran his finger down the side of the blade, grinning at his reflection in the metal and the memories of past years. Every year he used this knife the same way he was about to now. It was always a thrilling experience that he looked forward to each year as a certain day drew near.

He turned back to the table. There were newspapers covering the top in preparation for the event. The wet body on top dripped slowly onto the papers almost as if it were crying from the events yet to come. Contemplating for a moment, he reached for a towel and rubbed the body dry. He didn't need slipperiness hindering the fun he would have.

Once the corpse was dry, he began his work. He picked up the knife, laughing as he brought it close to the body's flash and plunged the knife it. Slowly, trying to make the fun last, he cut out an opening and set the knife to the side, rolling up his sleeves for the next part of his work.

He dug his hand into the opening, gathering and pulling out the guts of his victim with glee. It was the dirtiest part of his fun and by far his most favorite. The corpse was larger than those had had stolen in years before, so there was more fun to be had gutting the body. He continued to rip out the innards, dropping them carelessly in a pile on the table.

Once his victim was cleaned out, he pulled a marker from his pocket and drew a horrible and terrifying image on the side. Everyone would know of his work on the body when he left it on in public. The image would show them, but he wasn't done just yet. With the insides of his victim still coating his hands, he picked up the knife once more and dug the blade into the corpse's flesh, carefully slicing out the image he drew. Thunder barely drowned out his insane laughter as he did the final touches for his deed.

As the thunder ended, he let out a short gasp when he heard the door open. He dropped the knife to the floor with a clatter from the shock of being interrupted during his fun.

"Quackerjack?" the baritone voice of the local plant-duck gasped in alarm.

The clown grinned at his occasional teammate. "Hey there Bushy!" He placed the fallen knife back on the table next to the large pile of his victim's guts. He noticed the look of disgust on Bushroot's face and pouted. Of course the timid duck wouldn't understand what he was doing. This wasn't the kind of thing that Bushroot would understand. But he was having fun and the plant had interrupted it. Slowly, he lifted the knife again. "What are you doing here?"

"W-w-well I…" Bushroot glanced between the knife and the decimated body. Lightning struck and the plant jumped slightly at the thunder that followed. When he saw the impatient look the clown was giving him, he hurriedly continued. "I'm supposed to remind you of the meeting later…" His gaze managed to turn back to the corpse and to the knife that caused the damage, making him trail off. He choked, unable to stand the sight any longer and blurted out, "Oh man, what did you do?!?"

Quackerjack snorted as he fingered the knife carefully, looking at the bits of his victim stuck to the blade. "What's it to you Bushbrain? I don't question what YOU do for fun…" He started pointing with the knife as he talked to the plant-duck, almost getting upset at the thought that Bushroot might not let him continue his work. "I do this every year. I'm not going to stop MY fun just because YOU think it's sick."

"B-but…" Bushroot eyed the knife, wary of the deranged duck holding it. He knew that Quackerjack was a lunatic, but walking in on this brand of his sick fun only embedded the fact further into his mind. Seeing the toy maker with an angry glint in his eyes and holding a sharp knife didn't do anything to comfort him. He decided not to argue for fear of his own safety, not wanting to end up like the devastated body on the table. "Fine," he said, backing up towards the door, "J-just be careful with that knife and remember the meeting later…

"I will!" Quackerjack called in a sing-song tone as Bushroot ran away quickly, back into the storm. The jester grinned and giggled as he turned back to his pumpkin carving of Negaduck.


End file.
